


Highways and Country Lanes

by extrasystem



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Enemies With Benefits, F/M, Modern AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Swearing, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, look it's filthy ok, slight dom bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extrasystem/pseuds/extrasystem
Summary: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? Or did you take that too literal? [modern au]
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Highways and Country Lanes

**Author's Note:**

> i realize i've been forgetting to like... say what my prompts are. SO the dialogue prompt is in bold and the title is a lyric from Motivate by Little Mix. listen — i know. and no, i don't take criticism.

**"Is this what it’s like being average?"** ****

A snarl is heard behind you, followed by the hard press of the zipper on James’ leather jacket and the digs of his fingers on your waist. The heady smell of faux leather and lingering trails of cheap liquor prod at your nose — a stark difference from the gaudy spray bottles on your vanity and the custom leather in your convertible. It makes your face stretch into a wicked, taunting smirk when a palm pushes your head between the two headrests in the backseat. 

A huff and, "D’ya ever know when to shut your fuckin’ mouth? Or does your daddy just bend at your will?"

"No," You gasp, twisting to look at his dark eyes and bitten mouth, "and _yes_."

His growl is muffled against your needy lips, shoving his tongue to yours in a desperate dance. A hand is placed on the back of your neck to halt your movements and the other pinches the flesh of your chin, stealing the air from your lungs. Your hands flail uselessly on the coarse, black material and your legs shake; James straightens, draping himself over your body and caging your bent knees with his. 

A hand pops the buttons of your coloroid skirt and his teeth bite your left jaw, travelling down to the skin behind your ear. You moan into the noir seat and push your bottom backwards, savouring the low curse escaping James’ throat. He breathes, "Gonna fuck you quiet, baby. Teach you some manners, too."

"Is that right, James?" Your insistent knack for disobeying orders and disregarding authoritative figures invokes a settling flame, all the way down to the place between your thighs. It’s your way or no ones. "Sorry. Bucky, I mean."

The way your eyes light could rival the fireworks outside, distracting the crowd of people down a dingy dirt path who _ooh_ and _awe_ at the sparks of red, blue and white. You don’t register the mocking laugh from your chest as you hear James — _Bucky_ — groan in response. 

It’s too easy.

Though, when he pushes your panties to the side and slips a finger in, a strangled moan echoes in his car and you begin to think _you_ might be too easy. The wet kisses down your neck and steady pump of Bucky’s finger leaves you blurry-eyed and gasping at the roof of the car. 

Cloth headliner. Gross.

"Are—" A second and third finger joins the first, "— _shit_. You gonna fuck me yet?"

He snorts, curling his hand and pushing his palm against you when you twitch forward. The pace of his fingers increase and you’re breathless as Bucky licks a stripe between your neck and shoulder. Through his jeans, you feel the heavy weight of him near your hip and his thumb over your clit.

It’s humiliating, the way you whimper when the kaleidoscope of fireworks explode in the sky and into your vision, a border of white clouds invading the black of the car. He works faster and harder, helping reach your peak with a slow grind. 

"It’s alright," Bucky coos, strangely affectionate and alerts something in the back of your mind. Albeit, it’s also the thing that strikes the right chords and your body sings as the material squeaks under your death grip. "Go 'head, doll."

A wet cry spills from your throat and the faintest glimmer of tears pool at the edge of your eyes; you slump into Bucky’s chest and the world stills for a moment, Fourth of July cheers in the background. His hand retracts and trails your curls messily before prompting your lips to part with a sloppy tap. You suck and twirl your tongue, a grandeur gesture at the familiar taste of your slick. 

He stretches the inside of your mouth, declaring, "M’not gonna give it to you this easy next time." His fingers slip out.

You’ve heard that one before.

"Yeah, okay."

The clank of his belt and the unzipping of his jeans answer your snarky retort; your knees quiver in anticipation. The temperature of the car rises rapidly and your panties are tugged downwards in preparation of the hot press of Bucky behind you. He mutters something unintelligible and uses his wet fingers to spread your folds, the slippery substance trailing down your inner thighs. 

You fold your arms over the top of the seat, bending your forehead down as Bucky pushes in with a fervent thrust. Another firework crackles in the black sky, illuminating the tears and cracks across the seats alongside the calloused hand that grips the headrest next to you. A breathy pant over your ear follows the cheers a second later, synchronizing with a second push and pull.

One of many whines escapes your mouth at the stretch and burn of Bucky inside you, arching against him in a carnal attempt to feel more. "Bucky," You repeat like a mantra, moaning when he answers with a harsh drive, "faster."

Contrarily, he pushes until his body is completely pressed to yours; the cool material of his jacket and warm tongue causing you to squirm on his length. Not bothering to entertain your pleads, Bucky’s fingers imprint into your hips to stop your desperate grind. He laughs quietly and, "M’sorry, what?"

"Shut up," Your head whips around, a snarl on your face, and your hands tug at his wrists. "Just fuck me."

A beat.

"No."

You scoff, squeezing your thighs together and glaring at the azul disks flecked with shades of green and grey. The ache between your legs is an ardent throb and you’re squeezing your eyes shut as a palm puts pressure on your lower stomach, reminding you of his heady presence. 

Laboured gasps and amorous sighs send a lightning rod of need to your core, a frustrated furrow of your brows when you croak, "Please, Bucky." 

"Since you asked so nicely—"

Your breath catches at his next thrusts, quick and deep. Hard and fast. Your shirt chafes over your skin, confusing pain with pleasure. Bucky gives in and snakes a twitching hand down to where you need him, hips snapping to yours as your mouth falls open into the backseat. His lips trace your neck in unlaced swirls, teeth grazing your jaw. 

"Fuck," He gasps wetly, lacing his other hand with yours. "Y’feel so good, darlin’."

A mess of incoherent words tumble from your mouth when Bucky kisses your cheek, the back of your eyelids becoming the vibrant scene outside. He croons at your flushed slurs and licks into you with a grin; his knees shift with a squeak, pulling out despite your complaints.

Pliant and needy under his hands, you’re moved onto your back and Bucky crawls over you. He strips the rest of his clothing off and you mimic hurriedly, ignoring the dirt brushing against your shirt while it’s thrown to the side. Your legs are prompted apart, one propped over the back and he slots himself into place. 

Entering you with a swift drive and his nose knocking yours, you attempt to match his pace. Strained heaves chase a sputtered explosion and a string of neon lights. Bucky pushes your legs further apart to the point where you’re grasping at his hair to the melody of damp skin. Another set of fireworks paint the night beside your pitched keen and he’s not a second too far behind. 

"I’ve got you," Bucky murmurs, panting heavily. He races for his own release as you flutter around him with whites in your eyes. Pulling out, he groans, "Where d’ya want it, doll?"

Gulping for a sliver of air, you swallow to part your mouth. His irises darken and he straightens onto his knees to guide his twitching cock between your lips. You meet him halfway and wrap your hand around his to steer him closer to the edge, craving the familiar taste of Bucky. 

Fucking into your mouth, he grasps at the window and headrest while the flames of a bonfire spark alive. Traces of cum spill onto your chin and Bucky sits back with a laboured breath, watching you gulp and wipe your face. A thumb prods at your tongue before he presses a kiss to your slick mouth. 

For a moment, you lie there and listen to the chants outside. A breeze chills your skin when he rolls the driver’s seat window down and slips his clothes back on. You sit up, licking your lips and cringing at the clothing next to your shoes. 

"Here."

Your skirt hangs from his fingers and you nod. "Thanks."

The afterglow has faded with the wind and your ears perk at the shuffle of a crowd moving up the trail. The last of the buttons on your skirt are pulled together and your top flattened as much as possible. You don’t spare a glance as you close the door behind you, pulling the end of your skirt down.

A voice calls your name from the other side of the car and, "Where did she go?"

You thread through the array of cars in search of your convertible, careful to tiptoe around bursts of laughter and chatter. Nat beats you there.

"Hey! I was—"

"Save it," She smirks, rounding to the passenger side with knowing eyes. "You have something on your mouth.

You huff, pressing your hair down and unlocking the car, palming at your mouth. "Please, shut up."

A laugh.

"Learned some manners too, huh?"

**Author's Note:**

> i do in fact realize i am posting this at 11 AM


End file.
